


That's How the Cookie Crumbles

by NamelesslyNightlock



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Already, Arguing, BAMF Nile Freeman, Bickering, Booker | Sebastien le Livre is With The Team, Domestic, Fist Fights, Humor, IKEA, IKEA Furniture, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani is Not Amused, M/M, Nile Freeman Needs a Break, One Big Happy Family, Protective Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani, Protective Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Victory to IKEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25825273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock
Summary: They’re immortal. They’ve been through centuries of plagues and revolutions and wars. Flat pack IKEA furniture will not be what breaks them.It willnot.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache & Booker | Sebastien & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf & Nicky | Nicolò, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 91
Kudos: 668
Collections: Old Guard Discord Server Prompt Jamboree





	That's How the Cookie Crumbles

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Sorran](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorran/pseuds/Sorran) in the [TheOldGuardPrompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TheOldGuardPrompts) collection. 



> ...I have no excuse for this  
> 
>
>>   
> **Prompt:**  
>   
>  The team has to furnish a new safe house. Andy, Nicky and Joe are aghast when Nile returns with a van full of (Ikea) flat-pack furniture.  
>   
> Nile: "What? Trust me, it'll be a fun team-building exercise."  
>   
> Mayhem and possibly attempted murder ensue - just how exasperating can it be?
> 
>   
> It's not exactly, well, I just took 'possibly attempted murder' and ran with it xD I hope you like it!  
>   
> And also, thank you **JaxonKreide** for letting me use your gates of hell line! ❤︎ 

Nile was feeling pretty good about herself.

Ever since she’d first joined the team, she couldn’t help but feel a little out of step. They were all so well oiled, having been a unit of four for so long that even though they included her in everything, there was still that small glitch in the flow that gave her the sense of being an outsider.

She was sure it would go away soon enough, but it was still a little… awkward, at times. They’d left London on the run with no plan to take any new jobs any time soon, and while this was definitely within the realm of the top three biggest things to happen in her life, the gelled conversations between the others and the boredom of a long road-trip had her fingers itching for a little more action.

She just needed something, _anything—_ and when they’d moved into Nicky and Joe’s safe-house in Istanbul to find that all the old furniture looked about 300 years old and was entirely unusable, Nile had finally felt a sense of purpose.

And, yeah, so she didn’t speak the local language. So she didn’t know her way around the bustling city from Adam. None of that mattered—she was a millennial with a brand-new phone and an in-depth knowledge of Google maps, and she found the nearest blue and yellow storefront within _minutes._

She was grinning as she carried the multitude of boxes into the slightly musty living room – filling an entire trailer hadn’t exactly been _difficult_ – and she couldn’t wait to show the others her hard-earned loot. When she’d left, Joe and Booker had been arguing over the allocation of bathrooms—she didn’t think it was likely they’d gone anywhere.

Sure enough, when Nile brought in the last box it was to find the three male members of the team standing in front of her well-formed pile, staring with identical expressions of horror.

Wait—

Okay, maybe they were confused, because _horror_ certainly wasn’t the reaction she had been preparing for.

“Hey guys!” she exclaimed, adding the box to the stack before standing back and admiring her handiwork, a queen surveying her kingdom. “What do you think?”

There was pause that seemed a little longer than it should have been. Then, brow furrowed, Joe took a short step forward, eying the pile of cardboard boxes like it had the plague. ( _Probably not the best reference,_ Nile chided herself. Joe had lived through—and probably died during the plague.)

“Nile,” Joe said, voice a little hesitant. “Do you… know what those are?”

Nile frowned, matching Joe for confusion. “Well, yeah,” she said. “Who the hell wouldn’t recognise flat pack furniture in this day and age?”

As she said it, she wondered for a moment if that might be half the problem—they _were_ all several centuries old. Joe remembered the time when Sweden was best known for Vikings rather than Allen keys. But the notion was pushed aside quickly. They all used phones and TVs and _guns_ like it was second nature. There was no freaking chance they’d never heard of IKEA.

Except, when Andy came into the room and saw the boxes, her hand shifted slightly as if she were reaching instinctively for a weapon that was not there, her expression immediately going blank.

That clinched it. There was something going on here.

“Uh, is there something wrong?” Nile asked. “It’s just furniture—”

“Oh, here we go,” Nicky sighed—

“Just furniture?” Joe asked, his voice gaining that universal high-pitched squeak which never meant anything good. “ _Just—_ Nile, those monstrosities are not fit to bear the word. IKEA stores are gateways to hell that have cropped up all over the world, it is the only explanation for their immense number.”

“That, or consumer laziness,” Nile said, not quite sure she was still living in the real world. What was even going on here?

“No lazy person would buy from IKEA,” Joe said in total seriousness. “They sell under the pretence that they are saving space and time, but they are doing nothing but causing headaches and tearing families apart—and for what? An IKEA bookshelf is not even made from wood, but some flimsy—”

“Hey, some of this is quality,” Nile complained.

“I don’t doubt your choices,” Nicky said, thankfully getting a word in before Joe could start again. “But, Nile…”

“There’s just the small matter of putting it all together,” Booker added, speaking as Nicky trailed off. “Trust us when we say that this will not end well.”

Suddenly realising what was going on, Nile rolled her eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith. Listen, if my brother and I can decorate a dorm room in half a day, a team of five immortals can sure as hell put this shit together. There’s a first time for everything, it’ll all work out. It might even be fun!”

The four of them still looked unsure, and Andy’s eyes were pinched as she spoke in a defeated tone Nile had never expected to hear from her. “This is going to be just like Würzburg in ’94, isn’t it,” she sighed.

“Don’t be so sour,” Nicky said—though the wicked looking dagger he was clutching in his right hand took something away from his sunny tone. “I am sure this is going to go _just_ fine.”

—~—

Things, somewhat predictably, did not go fine.

Thankfully, Nicky’s dagger seemed to have been intended for _opening_ the boxes, and it was incredibly efficient at cutting through packing tape.

But that, of course, was where their success both began and came to an end, because Nicky’s box-opening skills were so on point that he had everything open before Nile could stop him, and _everything_ mixed together in one big mess.

The only silver lining here was IKEA’s habit of pouring all the little pieces into extra plastic bags. Bad for the turtles, slightly better for Nile’s sanity.

“It’s okay guys, it’s fine,” she said, raising her hands and instinctively slipping into the voice she’d been taught in the Marines for use during hostage situations. “Every piece has instructions, and they’ll tell us which screws and stuff we need.”

“I’m thinking we all need a few extra screws tightened,” Joe muttered, his hands running through his hair in what could only be dread. “This is a _bad_ idea, Nile—”

“Oh, for—guys. You’ve lived through how many centuries? Plagues? _Wars?_ You’re immortal warriors who can take down any obstacle in your path, I’ve seen you do it! Are you _really_ going to let a pile of flat pack furniture beat you?”

There was a beat of silence.

Nicky and Joe exchanged a loaded glance, Booker clenched his fists. 

And that, it seemed, was that.

Andy’s expression cleared like the rising sun, turning from dubious concern to fierce determination in a moment.

“Let’s beat this motherfucker,” she growled, bending down and pulling an Allen key from a packet like she did an axe from a corpse. “Usual ground rules, guys. No murder.”

“Not even if it’s absolutely necessary?” Joe asked, still looking a little apprehensive even as he tugged an instruction manual free from its sleeve.

“Not even then.”

Nile was curious as to _why_ Andy felt the need to make that a rule, but thought it better not to ask.

Given the others’ initial reactions – and, you know, due to the fact that this was _her_ idea, and therefore her responsibility – Nile took charge. Thinking that they would at least be the _one_ team she didn’t need to worry about murdering each other, Nile set Nicky and Joe on the task of constructing the chairs for the dining table. Booker, meanwhile, she put on the table itself, while she decided to work with Andy on one of the beds.

Andy immediately disagreed.

“Sorry,” Nile started, wondering if she’d overstepped. “Did you, uh, want to allocate people, or uh—”

“Oh, it’s not that,” Andy said dismissively. “But if you think I’m going into another room and leaving them out of my sight—”

“We’re not going to kill each other, Andy,” Booker interrupted from where he was already squinting back and forth between two handfuls of screws. “We’ll be fine.”

Joe huffed. “Easy for you to say.”

Andy narrowed her eyes.

In the interest of peace, Nile left the bed and sat down next to pile of wood that looked like it might be a bookcase instead. Andy followed, and at first, things were going smoothly.

She and Andy had already proven that they could work well together in a fight, and really, this wasn’t so different. Nile read the instructions while Andy put the pieces into place, and with two pairs of hands they found the things they needed out of the scary-looking pile in barely any time at all. They were quick, efficient, and they already had some of the shelves attached to one side of the bookcase when all hell broke loose.

“That isn’t right—”

“Yes it is, look at this—”

“You have this piece upside down—”

“It is not—”

“And this screw here is incorrect—”

“There aren’t any of the others left—”

“That can’t be right, we have four more chairs after this—”

“I am telling you, this is all we have left—”

“What is going on over there?” Nile snapped, getting up to step closer to the bickering couple.

“The gateway to hell has not provided us with enough screws,” Nicky answered sweetly—and Joe snorted.

Joe and Nicky were building a chair each, a booklet sitting on the floor between them—but their chairs looked very different, and neither looked anything like the one Nile had seen at the store.

“I don’t suppose there is another packet in your stash over there?” Joe asked. “Or, should we abandon the effort, take these back and then buy some _real—”_

“We’re not giving up on this,” Andy said harshly—and a quick glance proved that she was continuing the bookshelf alone, holding two pieces together with her feet while she concentrated the effort of both hands on her Allen key.

Deciding that Andy was probably the most capable of the lot, Nile turned her full attention back to the pair she had _thought_ would be capable of working together since they had only, oh, _nine centuries_ of teamwork under their belt.

“Are you sure you picked up the right packet of screws?” she asked.

Nicky shrugged, and looked to Joe.

“Am I _sure,”_ Joe scoffed. “These flat packs might be a mess but I am not incompetent. This was the only packet left.”

Nile frowned. “Well, uh—”

Nicky cleared his throat. “Booker picked up his screws before we did.”

Nile jumped at the sound of wood hitting the ground—and turned to see that Booker had unceremoniously dropped the table leg he’d had in his hands in favour of glaring at Nicky.

“Are you accusing me of something?” he asked. “Out of all of us, I am the only one managing on my own.”

“Not true,” Nile said, trying to diffuse the situation. “Andy is—”

“Her sides are the wrong way around,” Booker cut in. “None of the other shelves will go in.”

Behind Nile there was a curse and the harsh sound of something _snapping,_ and Booker shrugged as if to say ‘told you so.’

Nile looked up to the ceiling and prayed, please God, for a break.

(And shit, but they had only just started.)

“None of this is fixing the fact that I have already run out of screws,” Nicky pointed out. “Booker, if you could just count—”

“I don’t need to, I know I have the right ones!”

“But you will have extra—”

“I won’t—”

“Oh stop trying to show off, Booker, we all know you’re the reason why that cabinet killed Nicky in ’94,” Joe snapped, eyes flashing.

Booker all but _snarled—_

“Uh, guys? Explanation?” Nile asked—and then promptly regretted it.

“That was our first and last experience with IKEA furniture. Until now,” Nicky said darkly. “I have been told it was not pretty.”

Well. At least Joe’s ardent hatred suddenly made a little more sense.

But Nile wasn’t given any more time to think—it seemed her brief distraction had been the opportune moment Joe was waiting for, since he took the chance to leap past his chair and lunge for Booker’s carefully arranged pile of screws.

Unfortunately, that pile was _on_ the overturned tabletop, likely placed there to stop them from rolling away—and Joe’s leap put his path through a half-attached table-leg which did not survive the impact.

A second of silence, a brief, minuscule moment of peace before the storm—

And then—

“Fucking Christ Joe, what the hell do you think you’re—”

“Nile bought this furniture, Booker, damned if it’s not going to be put together properly—”

“That’s not going to happen if it’s in _your_ hands—”

Fists were flying, another table-leg fell, Booker got Joe into a headlock—

And that, apparently, was Nicky’s cue to join in. He threw himself into the fight with cold vigour, freeing Joe in a moment—and then it was two on one, their previous argument immediately forgotten as the couple came together as one perfect team. Yet Booker rather impressively held his own, and before Nile could flinch all three men were fighting again, punching and kicking, limbs flailing over the ground.

At least Nicky's dagger had yet to make a reappearance. Nile supposed she should be thankful for the little things—yet she was sure it was only a matter of time. 

Now properly worried and very out of her depth, Nile looked to Andy for help. The other woman was still glaring daggers at the skewed shelf – ( _So much for keeping an eye out,_ Nile thought) – but she tore herself away when she realised what was happening, getting to her feet and moving toward the mess of limbs and curse words.

Nile breathed a sigh of relief, sure that Andy would know what to do—

But Andy didn’t stop, she just threw herself on top of the pileup.

“You should have told me earlier,” she hissed, Allen key at Booker’s throat. “You _knew_ that it was wrong—”

“I thought you were going to beat it, boss, didn’t want to distract you—”

“Didn’t want to bring attention to yourself more like,” Joe snapped. “Didn’t want us to realise you’d filched our screws—”

Booker roared, and shoved them all away, scrambling upright. The others followed, ready to keep going—but while Joe and Nicky had their fists and Andy only an Allen key, Booker brandished a table-leg with all the violence and brutality that a Neanderthal might a club.

“Come on, then!” he taunted. “Let’s go!”

“Hey, whoa, stop!” Nile yelled, running forward but skidding to a halt just short, not really wanting to get in between them. “ _Rule one!”_

Their expressions were all deadly for a moment, twisted and feral—and Nile could almost imagine their faces as they had been back in London, drenched in blood and fired up with the heat of battle. But then Booker threw down his table-leg, and the moment passed.

The sound of the leg hitting the ground seemed to shake them all out of their haze. Joe looked a little sheepish, Nicky bit his lip—and Andy glanced back to the bookshelf, clearly not ready to forgive it. 

“You know,” Nicky said, his mouth curling up in a way which proved his first expression had been a poor attempt to hide amusement. “Rule one is not no murder.”

“Yeah. That’s about… four, five?” Joe agreed, rubbing a hand over his bearded chin.

“Five.” Andy tossed her Allen key to the ground.

Joe nodded. “Right.”

Booker gave them all a glance over. “Well, this was fun,” he said dryly. “Now, I need a drink.”

“I’ll come with you.”

As Andy and Booker headed for the hall, Nicky’s smile deepened some.

“You know, I was the reason for rule five.” He sounded far too proud of that fact.

“I believe it was a joint effort,” Joe laughed, all frustration melted away. 

_Don’t ask,_ Nile chanted to herself. She already had the feeling that it was going to turn into some kind of mantra.

“Now come on, before the others drink all the good booze,” Joe added. “Nile, you too?”

She shook her head. “Maybe later.” She couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on the two misshapen chairs. The angle of them almost looked sad.

“At least, if there is one almost decent thing about IKEA,” Joe said, “It’s that they have a good returns policy.”

“I suppose you’d know,” Nile replied dryly. Joe gave her something of an apologetic smile, and then he, too, was gone.

Nicky, however, hesitated in the doorway, and Nile arched a brow.

“What now?”

“Just, a simple word of warning,” Nicky said. “I know that you probably wanted this to be bonding, but… if you have any other ideas. Please. Don’t ever even think about asking us to play the game _Monopoly._ If you thought this was bad…”

Nicky turned and walked out with a violent shudder, leaving Nile to stare after him in slight concern. She had a feeling that her headache was going to last a millennium.

Yet, somehow… well, Nicky’s words had made her think, and the whole debacle, along with the realisation that they were all still perfectly capable of absolute ridiculousness despite their many years together, had made Nile feel like less of an outsider.

That thought in mind, Nile rolled up her sleeves, hefted her tiny Allen key, and then settled down to undo the damage and build the fucking furniture herself.

She’d be damned if she let the gates of hell beat her now.

**Author's Note:**

> Later, once Nile has finished, Andy will raise her drink and make a comment that if she hadn’t already been sure, this would have proven that Nile was going to fit in with the team perfectly. For if Nile hadn’t just proven a battle spirit of the greatest proportions, then absolutely nothing else would.


End file.
